


Little Stark

by satanic_panic



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/M, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: What happens when you fall in love with someone you're not supposed to?





	1. Little Stark

Quentin was working late, trying to perfect his latest project so that he could show it to Tony Stark, his boss, in the morning, he was sweating, and tired, and his bones ached and yoweld for rest; when it grew to be too much, he sighed, and stood up from his desk, closing his laptop before making his way down to the smoking area. It was cool, and the stars were visible despite the horrid amount of light pollution that had plagued New York since God-knew when, he wished for a thunderstorm, if only so that the temperature would drop and it would become much cooler, much more bearable, to work; as he leaned against the nearest wall, hands in his pockets, he heard light footsteps trailing through the car-park towards him. Listening closely, Quentin raised a brow when he saw you; he had seen you around before, mostly on your own, but sometimes with his boss, but had never really met you, so when you came up to him and introduced yourself, he made a note of your name. 

“(Y/N) Stark.” 

Quentin furrowed his brows, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you. “As in, Tony’s daughter?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and nodding. “Yeah, that’s me..” 

He muttered an apology before watching you light up a cigarette, his curiosity growing a little. “Your dad forcing you into the family business?” 

You shook your head, letting out a hum. “He gave the option not to, but… I wanted to. So, when Dad asked if I wanted to start learning the ropes, I agreed.” 

Quentin nodded, swallowing thickly as he scratched the back of his neck; he had to admit, he liked the way you spoke, the certain bite and fire to your words made him smile a little. Sure, he knew that, even if he did get to know you a little better, he wouldn’t dare have a chance with you - after all, you were bound to marry someone like Danny Rand, someone rich, someone born into money, just like you were. You would never think twice about someone like Quentin. 

“Right. Of course.” 

“Yeah,” you took a drag from your cigarette and flicked the ash on the ground. “So, Quentin, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. 

“What’re you doing here so late?” You asked, curiosity filling as your voice as you looked at him; he was handsome, you had to admit, but you could never imagine him ever wanting you - after all, he probably just saw you as some spoiled rich kid who lived off of their father’s fortune. He wouldn’t look twice at you, even if you renounced your name and eventual title. 

He shrugged, scratching the side of his nose and wondering if he should tell you, after all, if he did, you might go and tell everyone it was completed before he had the chance to show it off. “Just finishing up a project is all, I-”

“I’d love to see it,” you interrupted, not really thinking until it was too late; you looked down at the ground, muttering an apology with a shy smile. “Sorry… I just… I’d love to get to know a bit more about the kinda tech my dad has you working on - I mean, he won’t tell me shit, says I don’t need to worry about it ‘til it’s all complete.” 

Quentin nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly debated on whether or not to show you; it wasn’t ready, yet, but the excitement in your eyes was pleading and plighting with him, so he shrugged. “Sure. I’m working on the 2nd floor, I’ll keep the light on for you.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled, letting him go and get everything ready while you smoked the rest of your cigarette. 

* * *

You were absolutely amazed by what Quentin had come up with so far, and when he asked what your father would think of it, all you could do was shrug and marvel at him, his utter intelligence. 

“I can’t really speak for Dad,” you began, “but, if I was him, I’d be blown right the fuck back, this… this is some revolutionary shit.” 

A small, proud, smile came to lay across Quentin’s lips as he let your words get to his ego while he packed everything away. “It’s not fully ready yet, but I’m hoping to have it done by tomorrow morning.” 

You frowned a little, the thought of him exhausting his brilliant mind didn’t sit well with you. “You need a break, though… tell you what, I’m going up the local in a bit, meeting a friend there, if you wanna join? Have a couple drinks?” 

He considered it, on the one hand, he was eager to finish off his latest project and have it done and able to be shown before anyone else, but, on the other hand, the way you smiled at him made his heart pound and purr in his chest, it was a difficult decision, but eventually, Quentin shrugged, and smiled. “Sure, sounds good.” 

* * *

Entering the pub with you, Quentin saw all manners of people, ranging from Frank Castle at the pool table with Logan Howlett and Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson bickering at the bar, Billy Russo and Loki smoking in the corner with Magneto and Venom, he was a little taken aback, but when you waved him over to a table where the infamous Deadpool sat with Danny Rand, he relaxed a little; taking his place in the seat beside yours, Quentin introduced himself to the duo, who happily greeted him. 

“Y’know, the writer of this fanfic only added both of us because she couldn’t decide who to put into the story,” Wade commented, which earned him raised brows and confused looks. 

You shook your head, turning to Quentin with a little smile. “Don’t worry about Wade, he’s just really fucking weird and says a lot of odd shit.” 

Quentin nodded, clearing his throat. “Should I, uh, should I get drinks?”

“Nah, I will,” Wade assured as he stood up and held out his hand. “Make it rain, bitches!” 

You rolled your eyes, placing enough cash to cover both yours and Quentin’s drinks in the mercenary’s hand before he happily skipped away to the bar. 

“So, Quentin,” Danny cleared his throat, putting on a stern face, for the moment. “What is it you do?”

Quentin shrugged, looking at you for a moment before looking into your friend’s eyes with a sigh. “I work at Stark Industries, I’m an engineer.” 

Danny nodded, looking to you for a second with a smile. “I see.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what your friend was thinking as you sighed and wished for Wade to stop flirting with Bucky and hurry up. “It’s not what you think, Dan, believe me.” 

He gave you a look that told you that there was no way you could convince him that it wasn’t before he cleared his throat and stood up. “I’m gonna go get our Merc, before he causes too much trouble.” 

You were about to open your mouth and try to explain yourself, but before you knew it, he was at the bar, leaving you and Quentin all alone; your father’s employee cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, raising a brow at you. “Care to explain?” 

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Danny thinks you’re… well, here to piss off my dad.” 

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“Well, whenever me and my dad get into an argument, I always find a way to piss him off,” you explained, “and, most of the time, that involves dating a guy that he wouldn’t approve of… Danny thinks you’re the guy.” 

Quentin nodded slowly, pursing his lips slightly. “Am I?” 

You scoffed. “Absolutely not! I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t dream of using you like that… I mean, y’know, I’ve only known you for a short while, but… you seem alright, Quentin.” 

* * *

After that night, you and Quentin started talking more, finding an excuse to ‘bump’ into one another in the hallways, conveniently taking lunch breaks at the same time; as your bond grew, it was harder and harder to hide it from Tony, your father. Granted, you and Quentin were not romantically involved, but you knew that your father was protective, you knew he wouldn’t allow the friendship to continue to drift into such territory. The worst part of it was sneaking around, though, as you still lived your father - you knew he would worry even more if you had moved out, so you stayed - and had to find various ways of getting around F.R.I.D.A.Y., you had to find various lies as to why you were leaving the house at three o’clock in the morning; sure, you knew that Tony’s protectiveness came from his golden heart, you knew he meant well, but there was something about Quentin that drew you in, pulled you further into the depths, just as there was something about him that made you take the risks to see him; one such risk, was when he would sneak in through your bedroom window at night. 

Tonight, he did just that, and with a quiet ‘thud’, landed on your floor. 

“You best pray my dad didn’t hear that,” you whispered, helping him up and sitting up on the windowsill with him. 

Quentin shrugged, smirking at you. “It’s fine, I double-checked and he’s down in his lab. He won’t hear a thing, honey.” 

Playfully, you shoved his shoulder at the suggestion. “He might not, but if the dogs hear anything…”

He sighed, shaking his head as he pulled out the cigarettes from his pocket and handed them to you, along with his lighter. “You need to stop worrying, little Stark, it’s not good for you.” 

“And you need to shut the fuck up, Beck,” you chuckled, shaking your head fondly as you lit up a cigarette and took a drag. 

With a slight smirk and a lick of his lips, Quentin raised a brow, tilting his head slightly so that the single green lamp in your room lit up his eyes so gorgeously that you swore, if you looked into them for more than a few seconds, you would be utterly lost amongst the green-tainted cobalt. “How about you make me?” 

You fell silent, looking from his eyes to his lips as you began to lean in slightly, but before you ruined everything you had with him, you pulled away suddenly, and cleared your throat. “Don’t call me ‘little Stark’, you know I hate it.” 

He rolled his eyes at your blatant lie. “We both know that’s a bunch of bullshit, little Stark.” 

Again, you shoved him playfully as you let a giggle slip from your lips. “Shut up.” 

“Again,” he chuckled. “Make me.” 

“Fine, I will.” You snickered, slapping a hand over his mouth, not expecting it when he licked your palm, causing you to recoil in humourous disgust and wipe his spit on his shoulder. “You’re vile!” 

He shrugged. “You love it.” 

Once more, you fell silent, rolling your eyes as you took another drag from your cigarette and leaned out of the window so that you could ash it. “Do I, though?” 

“You can’t lie to me, honey.” Quentin purred. “Now, do you wanna know the real reason I’m here?” 

“Let me guess,” you hummed. “You’re bored, and wanna pester me because you’re an asshole?” 

Mockingly laughing for a second or two, he shook his head. “No, I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to go for a walk.” 

You squinted at him, unsure of whether or not he was being sarcastic. “You serious?” 

Quentin rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, honey, I’m serious.” 

“Y’know, you should really stop calling me that, people are gonna start to talk, if you don’t,” you told him. 

“You coming, or not?” He asked, voice low. 

You nodded. “Fuck it, I’m coming.” 

* * *

Quentin had snuck back out of your window as you grabbed the dogs, putting them on a lead each, and walked past your father’s lab, hoping he wouldn’t see you; but, all hope left you when he peered round the door, smiling. 

“You taking the dogs for a walk, sweetheart?” He asked. 

You nodded, gripping the leads a little tighter. “Uh, yeah. I’m not gonna be long, hour or so, tops.” 

Tony let out a hum, brown eyes watching you, he felt bad that he couldn’t join you, as when you were a child, he used to go out walking the dogs with you every day. “Alright, well, be safe, alright? Don’t be afraid to call me if you think something’s going on.” 

You smiled a little as you nodded again. “Will do, Dad. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” And with that, he retreated back into his lab; with a sigh, you shook your head, and darted outside to meet Quentin - in silence, the two of you walked across the grounds, until, at last, you came to the little wooded area where the river ran free and the dogs sniffed around the second they were let off, let loose. 

“I still don’t understand why you don’t just move out,” Quentin commented as he strolled beside you, the dogs trotting happily behind. 

You sighed, licking your lips as you looked up at the sky; on an obsidian canvas, the ivory stars grinned and glittered around the moon’s lonely glow. “If I move out, he’ll be all alone, not to mention, he’ll worry even more, and I don’t wanna put all that on his shoulders… my dad’s Earth’s best hero, he doesn’t need a burden like constantly having to worry about whether or not I’m safe at night.”

Quentin pretended to understand as he hummed; his fingertips brushed against yours, and for a split second, he debated on holding your hand, but fought against it by shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, you, uh, seeing Danny, or Wade at any point soon?”

You shrugged, trying to hide how your heart felt hollow when he put his hands in his pockets after his fingers had ghosted against your own. “I’m supposed to be meeting Wade tomorrow morning for coffee, and I told Danny I’d join him for a bit of lunch… but, I’m free after about, let’s say, four-ish. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to hide how his jaw clenched at you mentioning you were going to be seeing Danny; sure, he knew you were just friends, but something in him told him that Danny was going to be the man you married, one day, and poor Quentin couldn’t help but to feel the stabbing burning of jealousy in his chest. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to grab a drink afterwards, nothing too serious.” 

You smiled a little as you looked up at him. “I’d love to, yeah.” 

You and Quentin strolled through the woods for about an hour before you made your way back home, you greeted Tony quickly before running upstairs and closing your door; Quentin was clinging onto the drain beside your window, waiting for you to open it and let him in, once he lowered himself onto your bedroom floor, he sighed, and closed his eyes, sitting against the radiator beneath your windowsill. 

“I still don’t get why you don’t just tell Tony about this,” he admitted. “I mean, it’s not like we’re sleeping together.” 

You shrugged, biting at your bottom lip as you kicked your shoes off and tossed your jumper aside. “Maybe not, but… I know he wouldn’t approve of us being friends, either, and I…” you looked away, shaking your head. 

Furrowing his brows, Quentin tilted his head slightly. “What, honey?” 

“It’s stupid, don’t worry about it.” You told him; you were comfortable enough with Quentin that you didn’t feel the need to tell him to turn around when you took your shirt off and tossed it into the washing basket, replacing it with your pyjama shirt, even when you took your jeans off and tossed them into the basket, you didn’t feel uncomfortable, as you knew that he would never look at you in any way other than a friend, no matter how much it hurt you to think it. However, when you turned around to look at him after wriggling into a pair of soft jogging bottoms, you raised a brow. “What?” 

Clearing his throat, Quentin shrugged. “Nothing, it’s stupid, don’t worry about it.” 

“How dare you quote me to me,” you chuckled, sitting beside him and nudging his shoulder. “C’mon, tell me, Mister Beck, what’s playing on your mind?” 

He had to stifle a moan at the sound of you calling him ‘Mister Beck’, swallowing thickly, he looked from your eyes to your lips for a moment, but when he felt himself starting to lean in, he snapped away, and sighed. “Nothing, honey. Nothing you should worry about.” 

“Alright,” you shrugged, knowing that if he wanted to tell you, he would. “If you say so.” 

* * *

In the morning, long after Quentin had sneaked out your window again and gone home, you threw on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and your old Vans before trotting down the stairs and greeting the dogs, whose tails wagged and thumped against the floor as you smoothed them; your father was sitting at the breakfast bar, black coffee in his mug as he smiled at you. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” 

“Morning,” you smiled back, leaning against the counter and checking your phone; you had ten minutes before you had to meet Wade, which was more than enough time, seeing as how the cafe you told him you would meet him at was only two minutes away. “You still going on a date with Pepper tonight?” 

He nodded, wringing his hands together. “Yeah, Happy’s picking her up at seven. We’re gonna have a film night… what about you? You got any plans tonight?”

You let out a hum. “Actually, yeah. I’m meeting Wade in a little bit, then me and Danny are gonna go grab a bite to eat.” 

Tony’s eyes widened a little when you mentioned Wade. “You be careful around him, mind, he can be…” 

“Dad.” You chuckled. “Wade’s not that bad, he’s just… he’s just weird, more than anything.” A text came through on your phone, Wade asking where you were, which made you wince a little as you looked up at your father with an apologetic smile. “I gotta dash, let me know how your date with Pepper goes.” 

“I will,” he agreed. “Stay safe! Don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” 

You chuckled at your father’s words as you dashed towards the door and raced down the street; you sighed in relief when you saw Wade stood outside the cafe, hoodie pulled up so that nobody could see his face. 

“What the fuck has taken you so long?” He asked. “Did the writer fucking forget to add me in this?” 

You gave him a curious look before shaking your head and clearing your throat. “No, I was just chatting to my dad, is all.” 

“Have you told him about your mystery man, yet?” Wade inquired with a cheeky smirk that made you scoff and roll your eyes. 

“Absolutely not. If he found out I was mates with Quentin, he’d throw a fucking fit.” 

Wade snickered a little, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and heading into the cafe with you. “Yeah, but, he also threw a fucking fit when Charlie introduced us. And look at us, now!”

You nodded, admitting that he had a point, even though you hated to do so. “I dunno, I think I’ll figure something out… eventually. I mean, it’s different.” 

He gave you a curious look. “How?” 

You shrugged, stopping the conversation to order coffee and sit down at a table before you continued, “we met through Charles, who Tony’s known since he was a little kid, he trusts him… but, Quentin’s his employee.”

Wade let out a whistle. “Yeah, it’s a pretty fucked situation, but… you’re smart, you’ll figure something out.” 

You frowned a little and nodded. “I guess, yeah… I just… it’s hard to think, especially when I’m with Quentin.” 

Playfully, he nudged your shoulder a few times. “Tell me more, tell me more-”

“Shut the fuck up,” you giggled, shaking your head. “No, I just… there’s something about him, Wade. I… I think I might really like him.” 

“I’m not gonna lie, I always had money on you and Danny,” he admitted. “Looks like I owe Murdock a twenty… speaking of which, can I borrow twenty squids?” 

You furrowed your brows as you did your best not to laugh. “Dude, no, Danny’s like, he’s like a brother to me, that’s just… ew. Also, no, you still owe me for the last bet with Murdock you lost.” 

Wade shrugged. “Worth a shot.” 

* * *

Coffee with Wade went by just as it always did, with you leaving to meet Danny with your sides split and your breath hitching due to laughing so hard and so much; you loved Wade for that - his uncanny ability to always make you smile and laugh. You still didn’t give him the twenty pounds he asked for, though. 

As you waited outside Rand Enterprises, you hummed to yourself a song that Quentin had showed you - ‘Greatness’ by DON BROCO - until your friend walked down the steps and kissed you on the cheek as a greeting. 

“You ready, you crazy piece of shit?” You asked as you pulled away and started strolling down the street with him. 

Danny let out a chuckle as he shook his head. “Fuck off, baby Stark.” 

You playfully slapped his chest. “Don’t, or I will sing that song until it gets stuck in your head for the rest of your life.” 

Putting up his hands in surrender, Danny stuck his tongue out at you. “Baby Stark, do do do do.” 

“I hate you,” you giggled, cursing him for beating you to it. “Where we going, anyways?” 

He shrugged. “Dorsia?” 

You shook your head. “Boring.” 

Scratching his chin, Danny thought for a moment. “Yeoman?”

“I’m not going to a pub for lunch,” you tutted. 

“That shawarma place your dad likes?” He suggested, shrugging. 

You nodded, smiling a little. “Now, that’s more like it, Sunshine.” 

Playfully glaring, Danny shook his head at you. “You’re a pain, (y/n).” 

You grinned, stepping in front of him and walking backwards. “You love me, really.” 

“Only because I’ve been stuck with you,” he shot back. 

“By your own choice.” You reminded, pointing at him and chuckling. 

“Y’know, you’re my favourite parasite,” he joked. 

“You’re my… third favourite parasite,” you grinned. “After Venom, and tapeworm.”

“Fuck you, then!” Danny laughed. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love me to,” you snickered, falling back into place beside him. “Just a shame it’ll never happen.” 

“Only because you wanna fuck that Beck guy,” he teased. 

You shrugged and nodded. “Maybe so, but you also wanna fuck Colleen.” 

Danny went red, scratching the back of his neck and clearing his throat. “W-who told you that?” 

“No one,” you smirked. “You forget, Rand, I know you too well for your own good… why don’t you just ask her out?” 

He looked down at the ground, shaking his head. “Why don’t you just ask Beck out?” 

“Because he’s not into me like that,” you told him. “What’s your excuse?” 

Snapping his head up to look at you in utter disbelief, Danny shook his head. “I’m calling bullshit.” 

“On what?!” You scoffed. 

“Beck not being into you,” he began, “come on, Stark, have you not seen the way he looks at you?” 

You raised a brow. “Are you on ket?” 

Danny scoffed, this time, as he shook his head. “Seriously. The guy’s head over heels for you.” 

You sighed, shrugging him off. “No, he isn’t, he just sees me as some spoiled rich kid he happens to be friends with. He doesn’t want me…”

“I beg very much to differ.” 

“Can we drop this?” You asked, scratching the side of your nose. “I… I don’t wanna get my hopes up.” 

“(Y/N), you are the closest thing to a sister that I have,” Danny replied, “I love you, I really do, but fuck me, sometimes you’re about as much of a dumbass as Matt is. You need to ask Beck out - he’s in love with you, trust me.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Dan, drop it.” 

* * *

For a long while, you and Danny sat and ate and talked, mostly him trying to convince you to ask Quentin out, and you trying to convince him to ask Colleen out, without it ever getting anywhere, until, eventually, you paid, and left; you hugged him goodbye, telling him that, even though you hated him at times, you loved him like family, before heading down the street to the bar you promised Quentin you would meet him at. You found him sat in a booth already, with a bottle of beer and a glass of vodka and Red Bull, and as you sat down beside him, you sighed. 

“What’s wrong, honey?”

You shook your head, gulping down the vodka-Red Bull. “Danny.” 

Quentin clenched his jaw a little. “What’d he do?” 

You relaxed into your seat. “Nothing, not really, he just… he kept nagging me about asking you out, because he thinks, for some reason, that you’re into me, which is really a bunch of bullshit because-”

“He’s not wrong.” Quentin said sincerely as he looked at you. 

You were paralysed for far too long as you stared at him, jaw dropped, eyes wide. “What?” 

“I’m into you, little Stark.” He repeated with a smirk. 

You cleared your throat, furrowing your brows at him. “So, you… you don’t think I’m just some spoiled rich kid who you happen to be friends with?” 

He shook his head, stretching his arm across the back of the booth and taking a swig out of his beer. “Of course not! I think you’re amazing. Smart. Funny. Beautiful… only reason I didn’t tell you was ‘cause I figured you were going to get with Danny.” 

You huffed out a sigh, downing the rest of your drink. “Why the fuck does everybody think that?” You shook your head, swallowing thickly. “I couldn’t get with Danny, he’s like a brother to me. A really annoying, batshit crazy, brother.” 

Quentin let out a little huff of laughter as he licked his lips and looked you up and down. “I take it as you won’t be getting married to him anytime soon, then.” 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Absolutely the fuck not! Besides… I… I already wanna get with someone else.” 

His grip on the bottle of beer in his hand grew, knuckles paling as he tensed his shoulders. “Really? Who?”

You leaned in a little closer to him, voice quiet and low as you dared to admit your feelings. “You, Quentin, I fucking… for ages, now, I’ve wanted you… I’ve wanted to be with you.”

He let go of the bottle, daring to reach up and gently cup your cheek before he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours; the way his lips moved, such dominance and control, so soft but passionate, it made you close your eyes as you grabbed the sides of his hoodie and pulled him closer, letting him deepen the kiss and let his tongue slip into your mouth, finally dominating your mouth completely as he smiled when you moaned against his lips. It encouraged him to push it father as he brought you a little closer, daring to lace his fingers into your hair and tug at the strands a little, making you mewl against his lips until he pulled away and smirked.

“Honey, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to do that,” Quentin breathed out, his lips still so close to yours that you could feel his breath when he spoke. 

You smiled, licking your lips to savour the taste of his as you swallowed thickly. “There’s a problem, though.” 

“What?” He asked. 

“My dad can’t find out about us,” you said quietly. “If he did, he’d… fuck, he’d fire you on the spot, or worse.” 

Quentin shrugged, daring to kiss you again. “I can keep a secret, little Stark, don’t you worry.” 

* * *

Not much changed between you and Quentin after that night, you still sneaked around to see each other, he still crawled in through your window in the dead of night to see you, to touch you, you still ‘bumped’ into him in the hallways at Stark Industries, which usually resulted in him pulling you into the nearest cleaner’s cupboard and pinning you against the door as he kissed you and touched all the right spots; you told Wade and Danny, of course, and although they urged you to tell your father, you never listened to them, you couldn’t imagine your father’s reaction if he ever found out. You didn’t want to. Sure, he was only looking out for you, keeping you safe and sound, his heart was certainly in the right place, but you loved Quentin, with everything you had, so you did your best to keep your relationship with Quentin a secret. 

But, all that changed when Tony called Quentin to his office one day; you waited outside under the excuse that you wanted a word with your father, when, in reality, you were worried for Quentin; you heard them shouting behind the closed door, but couldn’t quite figure out what they were saying until, clear as a Summer’s night, Quentin’s voice rang out: 

“I’m in love with your fucking daughter!” 

Your jaw dropped. You sat there in utter shock until he stormed out, and when you saw him, you sprung up from where you were sat, and stood before him. 

“I thought we were keeping this a secret?!” You whispered harshly, utter disbelief coursing through your veins. 

Quentin frowned and nodded. “I know, but… he just fired me. He said I was unstable… I lost my temper.” 

You sighed, gripping onto his hand and squeezing it a little. “It’s fine, I… we’ll make it work. Dad’s gonna pissed, though, like, fucking royally, so… wanna grab your shit and head back to your place?” 

He squeezed your hand back and managed to conjure up a smile. “Sure, honey.” 


	2. Path to Forgiveness

For the most part, you and Quentin lived together quite happily in his flat on the same side of Hell’s Kitchen that Daredevil patrolled and Eddie Brock lived in, however, after getting fired by your father, Quentin had grown bitter and resentful of him, and if you ever invited him to join you on visits to see him and Pepper, he always found a way to slip out of it; you tried to understand, you really did, but you had thought that he would look past it, only, he never did. You tried to justify Tony’s actions to the best of your abilities, but Quentin’s resentment and bitterness only turned your attempts at justification into quarrels. So many arguments and rows took place that you almost forgot what it was like to be happy with Quentin; but, eventually, he realised that he wouldn’t get anywhere arguing with you - and even though he attempted to deny it, he hated fighting with you, as he hated the way that you looked at him, like he was some kind of villain, a bad guy. 

But, despite the fights, and the disagreements, you and Quentin always made up, you always found a way to look past it, to move on from it. 

* * *

It was a July night, you had your head on his shoulder as you looked up at the stars, smiling fondly at them as they grinned amongst the obsidian sky, a cool breeze in the air that made you feel utterly content; the fact that you were wearing Quentin’s old Stark Industries hoodie helped, too. Quentin couldn’t help but to keep stealing glances at you, thinking back on the times when you would sneak around to see each other, when your hands would brush against his and he couldn’t lace his fingers with yours, he thought back to the times he had to swallow your moans with kisses to prevent you both from getting caught; he smiled a little, pulling you closer and kissing your temple. 

“You ever think about getting married?” He asked quietly, his thumb moving up and down your skin, rubbing it softly as you hummed and shrugged. 

“Not really, I mean, you forget, my dad used to be a playboy. Marriage was never something I learned about.” 

Quentin nodded, clenching his jaw a little at the mention of your father. “Do you ever think you’ll get married, honey?” 

Again, you shrugged and let out a sound that told him you didn’t actually know; so, with a soft chuckle, he pulled away, and grabbed the ring out of his pocket, showing it to you with a slight smirk. 

“Quentin… how the fuck… how did you afford this?” 

He shrugged, licking his lips. “Don’t worry about that, little Stark, just… hear me out. I know we’ve been fighting a lot lately, and most of it’s my fault, but I know that, no matter how much we fight, I’m always gonna love you - so, with that in mind, (Y/N) Stark, will you marry me? And become (Y/N) Beck?”

Playfully, you scoffed. “Bold of you to assume I’d take your name… I mean, Quentin Stark has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” 

Quentin shook his head, licking his lips. “Do you wanna marry me, or not?” 

You rolled your eyes, doing your best not to grin. “Yes, I wanna marry you, Beck.” 

* * *

One night, you and Quentin were cuddled up on the sofa, watching the news, when suddenly, the reporter turned to dust on live television; you shot up from your seat, panic in your eyes as your breathing grew heavy - and that was when they revealed what you were dreading had happened: the Avengers had lost to Thanos, and ‘The Snap’ had taken place. You gripped onto Quentin’s hand, fear drowning you as you prayed neither you nor he would turn to ash, either, you even started praying that it wouldn’t take either of you. 

But, when you eventually realised neither of you were going anywhere, you swallowed thickly and stood up, a lump in your throat. 

“I need to make some phone calls.”

Quentin nodded in understanding, staying put on the sofa as you paced back and forth; you called Pepper, Happy, May Parker, Rhodey, Wade, Danny, and then, finally, your father; May, Danny, and Tony didn’t answer, and immediately you feared the worst as you slid your phone into your pocket and sat back down beside Quentin. 

“They’re gone…” you whispered, the overwhelming grief already washing over you, too strong to force any tears from your eyes. “M-my dad… Danny… Peter’s aunt… they’re…”

Quentin cleared his throat, knowing that he would have to assure you and tell you beautiful lies to keep you from crying, to keep you from the bleak and pessimistic points of view. “There’s probably no signal in space, honey, I’m sure Tony’s fine. As for May, I’m sure her phone’s just died or something, you know what she’s like with charging it.” He wasn’t sure what beautiful lie he could tell you to make you feel better about Danny, though, as his phone was always charged, and he always answered his phone when it came to you. “I’m… I’m sure Danny’s just in a meeting.” 

Every and any little beautiful lie to keep you from crying. 

“I…” you stood up again, breath hitching and shaky as you did your best to focus. “I’m gonna head to the Avengers HQ.”

“No,” Quentin pulled you back down, positioning you on his lap. “Give it a little while - I’m sure everyone’s fine, honey.” 

* * *

You mourned your father for three days, until you received a call from Rhodey, who told you that Tony was at the Avengers HQ, he was in bad shape, but if you wanted to, you could see him; you immediately jumped at the chance, and for once, Quentin joined you. 

You were greeted by Steve, Bruce, Thor, Natasha, and a few new faces, like Carol, Nebula, and a talking raccoon called Rocket; while you sat in your father’s room, holding his hand and sobbing, Quentin stood outside with Steve. 

“You have a plan, right?” Quentin asked, looking up at the super soldier with icy eyes. “I mean, to get everyone back, you have a plan?” 

Steve sighed, scratching the spot behind his ear. “Yeah, we have a plan... who are you, by the way?”

Offering a hand and a false smile, Quentin cleared his throat. “Quentin Beck - (Y/N) Stark’s husband-to-be.” 

Steve shook his hand, politely smiling. “Nice to meet you, kid.” 

* * *

Tony retired a couple of weeks after that, moving to a rural home with Pepper and their daughter, your sister, Morgan; you visited quite often, very rarely with Quentin, as somehow, his resentfulness and bitterness for your father grew to the point where he started obsessing over becoming the next ‘Iron Man’, wanting to be better than Tony, and although you tried talking him out of it, he wouldn’t hear any of it. He even grew more adamant and determined to be Earth’s next greatest Avenger after your father ‘died’ - you knew, of course, that he wasn’t dead, he had been living peacefully with Pepper and Morgan in secret after he himself used the Infinity Stones. But, you were just happy that Bruce had managed to restore and resurrect everyone before that happened; everything had been more or less the way it should have been… until Quentin truly did become unstable. 

* * *

“Quentin, you have to stop!” You begged after you found out his plans, the plans to use your father’s technology, not for the greater good, but for his own ego, his own megalomania. 

He scowled at you, showing off that icy glare that had made even Venom and Thor back away, but not you, you stood your ground as you looked him in the eyes. “Honey, you and I both know I can’t do that.” 

You shook your head, toying with the ring around your finger, the golden band that matched his own. “You can. Quentin, you could easily stop, all you gotta do is walk away.” 

He shook his head, sighing and turning away from you. “(Y/N), you’re either with me, or against me.” 

You clenched your jaw, taking a deep breath and keeping your temper underwraps - if there was anything your father had taught you, it was that conflict with someone you cared about was easier sorted when you kept your cool. “I’m neither with, or against, you, Quentin… you’re my husband, for fuck’s sake!”

Quentin started pacing back and forth, the beginnings of his ‘superhero’ costume laid out on the workbench he prowled around. “Don’t make me do this.” 

“I swear to God,” you whispered. “I won’t hesitate to do the right thing, no matter how much I love you.”

* * *

After becoming ‘Mysterio’, you walked away from Quentin completely, and when he was defeated by Peter Parker and arrested by S.H.I.E.L.D., you felt no sympathy for him; thankfully, though, Quentin behaved himself in prison, and after a few months, he was put on house-arrest. The first thing you did was scold him for revealing Peter Parker’s identity, as well as nearly killing the poor teenager; you wanted to slap your husband, you really did, but you kept your assaults to words. 

“Y’know, that’s the first thing I liked about you,” Quentin smiled as he kicked his feet up on the sofa and stretched out. “The bite and the fire.” 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. “Quentin, do you not feel an ounce of remorse for what you’ve done?” 

He shook his head and smirked. “Should I, honey?” 

You scoffed, turning on your heels; you were about to walk away when he sprung up and grabbed your arm gently. “What?” 

“I’m sorry,” there was a slight sincerity to his voice, one that only you could conjure. “Really, honey, believe me, I didn’t wanna hurt the kid, I-”

You looked into his eyes, breaking free from his grip. “You revealed his identity to the whole world, branded him as a terrorist, you mentally tortured him, and even worse, you could’ve killed him! All he wanted to do was have a break from the shit he’s been put through!” 

Quentin swallowed thickly, taking a step back; as much as he loved the fire and bite to your words, he also knew that standing too close to flames can only result in burns. “I had to!” 

“No, you didn’t!” You argued. “I begged you, I pleaded and plighted with you, not to do this! Not to go this far! All you had to do was walk away with me! But, no, you couldn’t put your own fucking ego aside, and nor could you put your petty bitterness over my dad aside!” You sniffled, shaking your head and looking down at the floor. “I love you, Quentin, I really do, but fuck me, it’s getting harder and harder to not hate you…”

He frowned, knowing that, if he didn’t change, he would lose you, the only person in his life that actually mattered, the only person that he couldn’t bring himself to hurt. “I can change, little Stark.” 

You wiped away the augmented tears. “No, no, you can’t, Quentin.” 

“I can,” he scowled. “And, I can prove it to you.” 

* * *

If there was one thing Quentin hated about house arrest, is was that he was stuck in the confines of your flat while you went out with Danny Rand, partying; he saw all the videos across social media, and although he knew you only loved Danny like a brother, there was something that wasn’t sitting quite right with him. Then, he noticed it - your ring. It was gone. Instead of being on your finger, it was around your neck, and although Quentin knew you had to make it seem as though he was dead to the outside world - only Danny, your father, and Wade were the only ones outside of you and S.H.I.E.L.D. allowed to know - it still stung to think that you no longer wore it on your finger. He sighed, shaking his head and tossing his phone aside; it was going to be a long night, and Quentin wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Every attempt he had made, so far, at getting you to forgive him had been completely futile, every attempt he had made to make you smile only made you roll your eyes, every little move he made to be the husband he knew he should have been was foiled and tossed away; he knew that the path to forgiveness was long, and hard, but this seemed more like the deserted forest trail that was overgrown with brambles and stinging nettles and ivy and things that clung to jackets and pulled the wearer back in circles, lost amongst the overgrowth. He needed to find his way to the path, back to you, and into your heart once more. 

When you eventually came home, the first thing Quentin did was ask you about the ring, why you were no longer wearing it on your finger. 

“I’m not yours anymore,” you told him. “At least, not to the public eye, I’m not.”

“What do you mean?” He inquired, furrowing his brow as he looked at you. 

“Quentin, don’t play stupid,” you sighed, sitting beside him. “We both know that I can't say I’m still married to you when you’re supposed to be dead.” 

“It’s called mourning,” he shot back. 

You rolled your eyes, looking away from him. “Quentin, we can’t afford to raise suspicion.” 

He huffed, looking over at the window. “If you wanna leave me, you can, honey.” 

For a moment, you looked back at him, if only in utter horrified amazement that he would think such a thing; he knew how much you loved him, he knew that you were his, and only his; sighing, you looked away from him again. “I don’t wanna leave you. And before you ask, no, I’m not seeing anyone else. I married you, I dropped being a Stark in order to become a Beck, I’m not… I’m not gonna just abandon everything we worked for - even if you did try to kill my dad’s protege, who, by the way, thanks to you, now wakes up in cold sweats because he sees my dad crawling out a grave like he’s in The Walking Dead.” 

Quentin looked at his hands, toying with the gold band that matched yours as he licked his lips. “I didn’t want to hurt the kid.” 

“But you did,” you snapped. “And not only did you hurt him, but think of the countless innocent kids that were on that trip with him, Quentin… and all for, for what? So you could boost your own ego?” 

“It’s not like that, I-”

“It is like that.” You deadpanned. “We can sit here and argue about it until the fucking cows come home, but we both know that the only reason you pulled that shit as Mysterio was for your ego - and it nearly costed the lives of innocent teenagers.” 

“(Y/N), wait,” Quentin whined when you stood up and began walking to the bedroom, he was about to reach out to you, when you slammed the door in his face, leaving him no option but to sit with his back against the door. “How many goddamn times do I have to tell you that I’m sorry?” He leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “When are you gonna forgive me, honey?” 

* * *

When Quentin woke up in the morning, it was only because he fell flat on his back after you opened the door, a smirk coming to lay across his lips when he saw you standing in nothing but a towel. 

“Now, this is a sight for sore eyes,” he chuckled. 

“Out of my way.” You deadpanned, waiting for him to move before you walked into the kitchen and made yourself a cup of coffee; he followed you, naturally, but when you told him to back off, he did, leaving you alone. “I’m going to see my dad today, you know the drill.” 

Quentin sighed, tugging at the heavy duty, thick, bracelet around his ankle. “I know, honey, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t worry, you only have eight more years,” you chuckled, walking back into the bedroom with your coffee and closing the door; it was only for a few minutes, but when you walked back out, it was as if it was Quentin’s first time seeing you, again. You were utterly gorgeous, in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but to smile. 

“You look real good.”

“And you’re still not in my good books,” you deadpanned. “No matter how hard you try.” 

He let out a grumble, wishing you goodbye and watching as you left the flat, locking the door from the outside; you didn’t want to be so harsh and cold towards him, but you couldn’t help it - he put minors in danger, willingly, and even tried to kill one of them, who he knew you were quite close to. As you walked down the street, you did your best not to think about your husband, all alone in that flat, no one but himself and his thoughts for company, you really wanted to feel bad for him, you wanted to turn back and reassure him that you still loved him, even after all his deceit and deception and destruction. But, you couldn’t. You paused at the street corner when you saw Danny’s car driving by, he soon enough stopped it when he saw you, and opened the door. 

“Ready to go see the old man?” He chuckled, letting you jump into the passenger side. 

You nodded, letting out a soft titter. “Are you?” 

Danny thought about it for a second as he continued driving down the road. “I don’t think I’m ever ready to deal with the Anthony Edward ‘Iron Man’ Stark.” 

“And yet, you’re not even related to him,” you joked. “Seriously, though, dipshit, other than giving me a ride there and back, are you actually gonna go see him?” 

Danny shrugged, biting his bottom lip as he shook his head, only daring to look at you when he halted the car at a set of traffic lights. “Honestly? Probably not. I mean, every time I look at him, all I can see is… what he looked like after he snapped his fingers.” 

You nodded, putting your hand on his and squeezing it gently before letting go and sighing. “I know. But, he asks about you, Dan, he wants you to meet Morgan.” 

He smiled sadly and scratched his chin. “Maybe one day… let’s just get you there, first, though - I can’t… not today.” 

“I get it,” you whispered. “Really, I do, but distancing and hiding yourself isn’t gonna do you any good - you know that, right?”

“I know,” Danny defended. “I’m not a complete dumbass.” 

“Well…” the high pitch of your voice made him slap your shoulder playfully. “What?”

“I know what that means!” He giggled, rolling his eyes at your childishness, despite the fact that he was no better. 

* * *

Pulling up outside Tony’s new house, Danny hugged you and kissed your cheek as he dropped you off. 

“Just text me when you need picking up, okay?” He asked, smiling a little. 

You put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “I always do… you sure you don’t wanna join? If only for five minutes?” 

In the distance, Danny could hear a child laughing, along with the laugh of the man who had raised you, his best friend; it made him tear up a little as he remembered the day Tony snapped his fingers. But, he smiled, and nodded. “Okay.” 

In a show of support, you held your hand out for Danny, who took it, although, you could feel how he was shaking, trembling, as you walked down to the row of chairs that looked out over the lake. Sat in the one bathed in the best lighting, sat your father, for the first time in his life, he looked relaxed, content, as he watched Rhodey and Morgan play together. 

“Hey, Dad!” You called, grinning when Tony turned around to see you; his face fell for a moment, but before you could ask him what was wrong, he had bounded up to you and wrapped you and Danny in a tight hug. 

“I missed you two, so much,” Tony muttered, pulling away and smiling. “How’s Peter? And Matt? And Bruce, and-”

“Woah, easy there, Tones,” Danny chuckled, beaming at him. 

“Yeah, quit with the speed-talk,” you tittered. “Peter’s fine… kinda…” 

“Matt’s okay, too,” Danny told im. “And I saw Bruce earlier this morning - he mentioned something about doing a Netflix TV show about science and saving the planet?” 

You looked at your father, then, and the guilt burned in your stomach. “Dad, can I, uh, can I speak to you - in private?” 

Furrowing his brow, Tony nodded, and allowed Danny to go and meet Morgan and catch up with Rhodey. Quietly, you followed your father into his shed, and leaned against his workbench. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

“It’s a long story,” you sighed, looking down at the ground. “But, you remember Quentin?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I mean, you married the guy.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Well… he, uh… he’s done some awful things, Dad, and I-”

“Is this about the Europe incident?” He asked, much to your surprise. “Please, kiddo, I’d be an idiot not to know about that… plus, Fury told me - house arrest, huh?” 

You were glad you didn’t have to explain it all again, but, even still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look into your father’s eyes. “What do I do, Dad? I mean, he… he tried to kill a bunch of minors - for the sake of his own fucking ego! And… and as much as I love him, I… I don’t know if I can forgive him.” 

Tony licked his lips as he leaned against the shelves, arms folded across his chest as he slowly nodded and let out a hum as he thought; he would never forgive anyone for trying to murder a group of minors, especially over something as silly and trivial as ego, but… he also knew that you loved Quentin. It was a tricky situation. 

“Well, y’know, I certainly don't support you staying with him, but if you really love him, I can't stand in the way of that, and it's your call to make, but if things go South, I'm still here for you 'cause you're my kid and I love you,” he told you with a slight frown. “Do you wanna forgive him, kiddo?” 

You began plucking at the skin on your fingers, chewing your lip as you shrugged and met your father’s gaze. “I do, yeah, I’m just… I don’t know if I can, let alone how… I mean, how am I supposed to forgive him for something like that?” 

Tony shrugged, he wanted to give you decent advice and be honest with you, but he had no genuine idea of what you could do, what he could say to help. “I’m gonna be honest with you, sweetheart - I genuinely have no clue, I’m sorry.”

You walked forward, hugging him tightly and sniffling. “It’s okay, Dad, just… just knowing you’re still here for me, Morgan, Danny, all of us… that’s more than enough.”

* * *

Looking up at the massive screen, Wade slapped a hand over his mouth as he watched Quentin filming his own confession. 

“Peter Parker’s innocent!” Quentin’s voice rang loudly, drawing the attention of every single person in the street. “None of it was real! The kid’s not guilty! It was a mass illusion, played on all of us!”

“Oh, shit, oh fuck, oh fucking shit balls!” Wade muttered, fumbling around for his phone before unlocking it and getting your number up; the line rang, and rang, and eventually you picked up. “(Y/N)! You need to come home, right fucking now!”

“Why?” Your voice crackled a little, due to the lack of signal. “Wade?”

“(Y/N)!” Danny’s voice rang from the background, quietly. “(Y/N), we need to go home - now!”

“I fucking told you!” Wade shouted down the phone with a sigh. “For fuck’s sake, hurry the fuck up and come home!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you sighed, clearly putting him on speaker, as now he could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey, too. “Wade… what’s going on?”

Wade tried to keep his composure as he nearly screamed, “your fucking husband is on the big-ass TV in the middle of the fucking city!”

“Shit…” you whispered, passing the phone to Danny. 

“What’d he say?” Tony, Rhodey, Pepper and Danny asked, completely synced. 

Wade swallowed thickly. “Peter Parker’s innocent. He’s claiming the Europe incident was just a mass illusion or some fucking bullshit.”

Tony and Danny looked at you. “He’s apologising.” 

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

Tony was the one to shake his head and pull you aside so that Wade could no longer hear, and Danny was left to explain. 

“Could be wrong here, but, uh, it doesn’t sound like a fucking apology.” The Merc said. 

“You said he said the kid’s innocent, right?” Danny asked, waiting for Wade’s confirmation before he continued, “it’s his way of telling (y/n) that he wants to be forgiven… he’s not gonna drop himself in his own shit, but… he’s trying to make amends, in a way.”

“Wait, shut the fuck up!” Wade shouted, watching the screen as Quentin continued to speak. 

“I have to go! They… they’re after me,” he sounded panicked, fearful. “Protect Parke- oh, God, it’s too late, no, I-”

The video cut off, leaving everyone mumbling and confused as they attempted to get back to their daily lives; Wade quickly explained what had happened, as well as adding in a comment of his own about how Quentin was “only doing this because the writer of the fanfic wanted a happy ending”. 

“Wade, we’ll be an hour,” Danny said, still sounding quite shaken up. “Do me a favour - go to the flat, there’s a spare key behind the dragon symbol to the right of the door.”

Wade already knew what Danny was going to ask of him, so he nodded, and sighed. “You got it, American Dragon.” 

“Seriously, shut the fuck up.” 

* * *

“You promise you’ll call if you need anything?” Tony fussed as he helped you and Danny into the car, Morgan balanced on his hip, sound asleep and tucked into her father’s embrace. “Even if it’s just the time of day?”

“Yes, Dad.” You and Danny answered, rolling your eyes and quickly bidding him and Pepper and Rhodey goodbye before taking off in the car; Danny was in the driver’s seat, going far over the speed limit but not caring, all either of you knew was that you had to get home. And fast. 

“Come on, Dan!” You urged, getting frustrated as seconds ticked by; you could see your block of flats, now, and waited for him to halt at the curb before you darted out the car and raced upstairs; you practically crashed through the door, panting and sweating as you looked at Quentin. “Where’s Wade?”

“He left when he saw Danny’s car pulling up,” Quentin shrugged. “Why?”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “Quentin, don’t… don’t act stupid. I know what you did. The video.”

He stood up, smiling a little and outstretching his arms. “Am I forgiven?”

You knew that this was the moment, you could either take him back with loving and open arms, forgetting all the wrong he had done, or, you could forgive him, but only to a certain extent; you thought about what your father would do, as you had to admit, you were anxious about your decision, and you wanted a bit of guidance - but, then, you looked into Quentin’s blue eyes, and you saw that he was, genuinely, a little bit sorry. 

“You’re not fully forgiven,” you told him, slowly stepping forward. “But… you did the right thing - kind of. Sorta. More or less.” 

Wrapping his arms around you the second you were within reach, Quentin pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head; his grip around you almost felt as if he never wanted to let you go again, as if he had been starved of your touch for years. “I love you, (y/n) Beck.”

“I love you, too, Quentin,” you whispered. “But, you’ve only just started on the path to forgiveness - you’re still a long way off, you realise that, right?”


End file.
